by Katy Cannon
“I made these for you. Well, I had help. But it was my idea. Sort of. I wanted to make you something special. Something you.” Izzy tentatively took the unusual bouquet, touching the petals of one of the flowers with great care. “They’re corsages, or brooches, or whatever you want them to be. We just put them on the stems for the look of the thing. There’s one from every scrap of fabric I could find from every dress you’ve ever made, with a bit of help from Miss Cotterill and, well, your mum, too. She was a bit confused until I explained… Anyway, do you … do you like them?”
Izzy beamed. “I love them.” Then, still gripping her flowers, she flung her arms around Jasper’s neck.
“Grace?” Connor’s voice was too close, right behind me, his breath warm against the skin of my neck. “We need to talk.”
Sighing, I turned. “I don’t know what you want to talk about.”
“Us.” Connor put his hands in his pockets and stepped back, just a little. It was probably only twenty centimetres, but suddenly the distance between us felt like a mile. “Look, you know how I feel about you. But you made me a promise. And you broke it.”
“I was wrong, I get that. But I had reasons,” I said firmly. “I was trying to help my friend.”
“And what now? You think everything is suddenly going to be OK?”
“Why shouldn’t it be?” I waved a hand at the cast. “Ash and Yasmin will get back together, the show will be great tonight, and you and I can go back to how things were, too.”
“Do you really believe that? That everything will suddenly be fine? Yasmin’s told Ash she needs time to think about things,” Connor said, and a heavy weight tugged at my heart. “He’s off sulking in the back somewhere. If you’d just talked to me first, I could have helped you. We could have waited…”
“You mean you’d have told me to stay out of it, to avoid any drama,” I snapped back. Because whatever he thought, I had found out the truth and cleared my friend’s name. I’d done the right thing.
“Until after the play? Yeah. I would have.” We stared at each other, and a horrible thought filled my head. What if I’d fixed things for Yasmin only to ruin them for myself?
“Grace!” The yelling came from behind me, and I turned, automatically, to see Sara racing across the stage towards me. “Violet’s gone. You’re going to have to go on as Beatrice tonight!”
What you need:
7 different pieces of fabric, in complementary patterns
Plain backing fabric
Sheet wadding
What to do:
1. Cut fifty-six squares (eight from each piece of fabric), measuring 22 x 22cm each.
2. Lay your squares into eight rows of seven squares, in the order you want them to appear on your quilt.
3. Start with the top row. Take the first two squares and pin them down the side where you want them to join, right sides together, then stitch a 1cm seam.
4. Add on the third square where you want it to join the second square in the same way, and so on for the rest of the row, making sure your seams are all exactly 1cm.
5. Repeat with the other rows.
6. Line up the rows in order, then pin the first two rows together, lining up the seams exactly. Stitch in place with a 1cm seam allowance again, then add the next row and so on, until the end.
7. Iron all the seams flat.
8. Measure and cut your backing fabric and wadding to fit the patchwork layer.
9. Lay out the patchwork and lining, right sides together, then add the wadding on top.
10. Pin all four sides, leaving a 30cm gap on one of the short sides.
11. Stitch all the way around, except the gap, removing your pins as you go. Turn inside out and hand sew the gap closed.
12. For a quilted effect, sew through all three layers along each of the seams between your squares.
13. Lay your quilt out, stand back and admire!
For a moment, just a brief flying moment, my heart gave a leap.
This was it. The moment I’d been daydreaming about, planning for and half-expecting since the day the cast list went up. This was my chance.
But then I saw Connor’s face, his thoughts printed as clearly across it as if he’d said them out loud.
“No,” I said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. “That’s not why I did this.”
“I hope not. For their sake.” He nodded towards the rest of the cast, and I followed his gaze, taking in the stricken looks, the fear in their faces. They were already beaten down by the awful dress rehearsal. Now their lead actress was deserting them, too.
My heart sank in my chest as I realized, for the first time, that I wasn’t the best person to play Beatrice.
Mr Hughes had picked Violet. Violet was the one who’d rehearsed the part over and over, the one who knew all the tiniest moves. The one that everyone else expected to be on that stage with them. Their star.
And they needed her.
“Where is she?” I broke away from Connor, already crossing the stage. “In the drama room?”
“She was,” Sara said. “But she was shoving things in her bag, she might have already gone…”
But she wouldn’t be. I knew Violet. I used to be Violet. She couldn’t leave without one last scene, one last drama playing out. “Keep everyone out of there, yeah?” I said. Sara nodded.
“Want me to come with you?” Connor asked, following me through the wings, towards the drama room.
I shook my head. “I can handle this.” I flashed him a small, sorry smile. “I think I have to.”
“OK.” Connor stopped at the door, and my heart flip-flopped a little at the serious look on his face. “Fix this, Grace. Or we haven’t got a show.”
Biting my lip, I nodded. And then I headed in, alone.
Violet was huddled behind the screens we’d been using for changing, her bag half packed, her eyes red and cheeks blotchy. No wonder she didn’t want anyone to see her; she wasn’t one of those girls who could cry and look beautiful. Neither was I, but that wasn’t the point.
“So. This is kind of undermining my Cheer-Up Cake Stall thing.” I sat on the edge of the nearest table, swinging my legs and looking down at her.
Violet gave a muffled sob. “I thought this would be just what you wanted. Your chance to shine at last. Isn’t that why you made me tell Ash the truth?”
“No. I made you tell Ash the truth to stop Yasmin from being miserable.” I paused. Was that the only reason? “Also because you did a really lousy thing.”
“And now everybody knows it. All I could think about, all through the second half of the dress, was how everyone knows what I did. They’re all laughing at me behind my back. How can I go on stage with them tonight, knowing that?”
“Right now, I think they’re all far too busy worrying about this show being a disaster to bother laughing at you.” Not that they wouldn’t, afterwards. Violet was right; too many people had been floating around, listening in. People knew now, which meant the whole school would soon. And, as Yasmin had learned, that was never fun.
Violet gave me a scathing look. “I bet this day is ending up exactly how you wanted it, isn’t it?”
Jasper’s grand gesture had been a success, at least. People were eating cake, and telling me to go star in the show, just like I’d dreamed. But Ash was begging Yasmin to take him back, and I wasn’t sure she would. And Connor and me … I didn’t have a clue what was going to happen there.
And if Violet didn’t get up, pull it together and get on that stage tonight, the show I – and everyone else – had been working on for six months would be a disaster.
So, no. Not everything I wanted at all.
I slipped off the table and crouched down beside Violet. “Look. Confession time. You and me? We’re not nice, sweet people. We’re not Yasmin, or Ash. We want things, and we daydream about ways to get them. You think I haven’t thought of a million scenarios in which I get to play Beatrice? I’ve been thinking about it all year. You were right, when you told Connor I was
waiting for you to screw up so I could swoop in and save the day. I told myself that it would be for the good of the show, or that it would help Connor, even. But honestly? I wanted it for me. I wanted to be the star.”
“I knew it!” Violet surged up, her cheeks pink. “I always knew—”
“But not like this,” I said, talking over her righteous indignation. “I didn’t want it like this. And the difference between you and me, Violet, is that I never hurt somebody in order to get what I wanted. Until today.”
“Today? You mean me?”
“I mean that I promised someone something, someone who matters, and I broke my word. I had good reasons, but … I went about things badly. And I hurt them.” It felt good to confess everything. But Violet wasn’t the person I needed to say this to.
“So, no,” I went on. “This – you pulling out and me going on as Beatrice – it’s not what I want. Even if I thought it was. All I want right now is for this show to be a success. And that requires you getting it together, washing your face, putting your costume on and walking on to that stage tonight like you own it.”
Her eyes got kind of big at that. “But—”
“No. No buts. Yes, you screwed up. Yes, you’re embarrassed. And yes, you were awful and everyone out there knows it. But the only thing to do now – and trust me, I’m speaking from experience here – is to get back up and try and be better next time.” Just like I was going to promise Connor I would.
Violet looked like she might start crying again so, with a soft sigh that hopefully didn’t sound too impatient, I stretched out my legs and sat beside her, my back to the screen.
“You don’t have to be that girl any more, is what I’m saying. The girl who screws other people over to get what she wants, or who pushes other people out so she can be the star. You don’t need the drama to be important. You can be important just by being yourself – and yourself can be anyone you want.” I wasn’t just talking to Violet, I realized. I was talking to myself. “But you have to be out there, facing everyone else, to do it. Otherwise, this is the only you they’ll ever know.”
I thought she was going to argue with me again, which would have been clearly pointless and a waste of time, but she didn’t. Instead, she gave a sharp nod and said, “OK,” in a slightly watery voice.
I jumped up and held out a hand to pull her up. “Then let’s get you ready.”
Fifteen minutes later we walked out on to the stage with Violet in her first costume and full make-up, 1920s headband in place, and the cast and crew cheered. It wasn’t entirely clear which one of us they were cheering, but I chose to believe it was mostly for me.
After all, I had saved the day.
But to be honest? I needed to talk to Connor too much to really care about applause.
“I fixed it,” I said, approaching him at the side of the stage. Everyone else was too busy with Violet to pay us any attention, so at least I knew there wouldn’t be a scene, whatever Connor’s reaction.
“You did.” He smiled, just a little, and relief flooded through me. “The door was still open, by the way. I heard what you said to Violet.”
“All of it?” My heart clenched at the thought. I’d planned on spinning that confession a little better when I spoke to him about it.
“All of it,” he confirmed.
“Oh.” Then he knew everything. About how I’d lied to him about wanting Violet’s role. How I wasn’t the good, changed person he thought I was.
I thought about what I’d told Violet, about being whoever she wanted to be. I thought about Mum and Dad, and how they were doing their best but still just making it up as they went along, like the rest of us. I thought about Faith, trying so hard to be part of my family, even when I’d made it difficult for her.
And I thought about me. About who I was, and what mattered to me – my friends, my family … and Connor. Not being a star, not the drama. Just the people I cared about. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t still Grace Stewart.
“I get that you’re mad about me causing all this last-minute drama,” I said slowly, still thinking through what I wanted to say. “And yeah, my timing wasn’t great.”
“It was terrible,” Connor said, but he didn’t look mad. “But I do get why you did it. For a moment, when Sara said Violet wouldn’t go on, I admit, I thought that maybe you’d planned this. But then I remembered I know you better than that, and I had to trust that you were only doing what you thought was best, for your friends.”
“I thought I was. And I wasn’t just doing it for the drama, exactly. But Connor … this is who I am. I’m always going to be a little dramatic, whether I’m backstage or on stage or even off stage completely. I’m not ever going to be calm and collected and just sulk quietly like you.”
“I don’t—”
“Yes, you do. But I like you anyway. Even when you’re sulking.” I gave him a quick grin to show I wasn’t too serious. “I guess what I’m saying is … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”
“No. But I should have understood more what your friends mean to you. I guess … I haven’t had friends that mattered like that in a while.”
“You do now,” I told him, resting my hand against his arm.
“Yeah, I do. And maybe good friends are worth a little drama.” His fingers tucked under my chin, making me look up at him. His eyes were dark and serious, but he was smiling softly, like he couldn’t help himself when he looked at me. “I know you now, Grace. I know exactly who you are. That’s why I want to be with you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. What you said to Violet about the sort of person you are … sometimes I think it’s only you who still believes you’re that girl. The rest of us know better. Do you even realize how much more you’ve done for this play working backstage then you ever could have on stage? It’s not just the costumes. It’s everything. From running lines with Violet, to prompting, to helping me shift scenery, you did everything you could to make this show a success. Even if no one else noticed.”
I stared up at him. Was he right? Had I really done enough, changed enough, for people to forget the Grace I used to be?
Was being myself all I had to do to get my happy ending and the applause at the curtain call? Because if so…
“The thing is, I can’t promise that being with me won’t be a little dramatic sometimes. Think you can live with that?”
Bending close, Connor pressed his lips against mine, his arm snaking round my waist to hold me close against him. “If it means I get to be with you, I’ll handle the theatrics,” he murmured, between kisses. “It will always be better than being without you.”
I smiled as I kissed him back, feeling his lips curving in response against mine. Maybe we didn’t need to be like Mac and Lottie, all perfect for each other and everything, to be happy. We could just be us instead.
Just Grace and Connor.
From then, it was countdown to curtain-up. Mr Hughes turned up just as we finished clearing away the Cheer-Up Cake Stall. Jasper had finally let go of Izzy long enough to help Lottie and Mac with making replacement refreshments, while Yasmin was back helping me and Izzy to get everyone into their costumes. I’d talk to Yasmin later, once everything was over, and find out how she really felt about Ash. He’d been tricked by Violet, of course, but he should have trusted her anyway. Maybe they’d get back together, or maybe they wouldn’t, but at least I’d done what I could to help her.
Right now, my focus was on the show – my first production as wardrobe and props mistress.
While Mr Hughes gave his last-minute motivational speech to the cast in the drama room, I snuck out front to watch the audience file in. I spotted Mum, Dad and Faith taking up their seats in the front row and waved. Faith waved back and beckoned me forward.
“How’s it all going backstage?” Dad asked. “You taking charge back there and keeping everyone in order?”
“Something like that,” I said with a smile. “I fed them cake, anyway.”
“Always works for me.” Faith grinned. “I’m so excited to see what you’ve done with the costumes. And look!” She held up a tiny bouquet of fabric flowers – leftovers from our mass flower-making session with Jasper.
“I’ve got some in my bag, too,” Mum said. “I thought we could throw them on stage at the end.”
“Like roses at the opera, but better,” Faith added.
“That’s a lovely idea,” I said. But I had to admit, I felt a little sad to see the last of the flowers go.
“Don’t worry.” Faith wrapped an arm around my shoulder in a way she wouldn’t have dreamed of a few weeks ago. “We can make more. I’m thinking that fabric bouquets would be perfect for the wedding, don’t you? They last a lot longer, for one thing.”
“And they’ll go better with the new bridesmaids’ dresses, too,” Mum said, rooting through her bag. She held up a new pattern. Simple, sophisticated, and not yellow. It was everything I’d ever wanted in a bridesmaid’s dress.
“It’s perfect,” I said.
“Oh good.” Mum smiled. “Faith chose it. She said it reminded her of you.”
I’d like to claim that my sudden excitement about the wedding had more to do with my growing closeness with my sister than the suddenly improved dress but, well, at best it was probably fifty-fifty. Which was a start.
“You’d better get backstage,” Dad said, checking his watch. “They’ll be starting in a minute.”
I nodded, but then a thought occurred to me. “Actually, while Mum’s working on the bridesmaids’ dresses… Faith, I wondered if you might be able to help me with another project?”
“Sure,” Faith said, looking surprised. “The flowers were tons of fun. What were you thinking?”
“I found one of our gran’s last patchwork quilts in her sewing box. She’d barely started it when she died.” I swallowed. “I thought we might finish it for her. Together.”
Faith’s eyes looked wet with tears. She’d never known Gran, I realized. I’d had my whole life with the family Faith hadn’t even met. It was time for me to share some of that with her. After all, Gran had made all her other grandchildren a quilt. Faith deserved one, too.